


Business

by mogwai_do



Category: Firefly
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mogwai_do/pseuds/mogwai_do
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He offered his best smile, "Name's Mal Reynolds; I got business with the old man."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The sound of at least a dozen pairs of ears tuning into the exchange was distinctive, but Mal didn't let it show.  The barkeep regarded him skeptically, "Business?  Seems to me anyone with legit'mate business with the old man wouldn't need to be askin' no barkeep."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Business

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jhava](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Jhava).



68 was the ass-end of nowhere; it had a heavily ionised atmosphere that made the weather dangerously unpredictable, sparked storms of lethal intensity, and it made navigation a bitch. Arid in the summer and glacial in the winter there was no good reason to live there, but it was populated all the same, if only barely.

The rumours had sprung up only a decade or so ago, but they'd been persistent and word of mouth could be a powerful thing. The Alliance hadn't set one booted foot on the planet and while many who arrived there did so by accident, some came for just that reason. A very few, who listened more closely to the rumours and tales, came for more, but they tended to leave empty-handed when they left at all.

Mal had only known it as a set of co-ordinates scribbled on a small piece of paper he kept tucked in a book in his quarters. The rumours hadn't exactly been new to him, but tying the two together had been a not so surprising revelation - in retrospect it had figured. The rest of the crew knew the stories, or at least Zoe, Jayne, Wash and Book did and he supposed it was inevitable, given the kind of career they had, that they would end up there sooner or later. They thought it was a high risk gamble coming to 68 now, plenty dangerous, but little chance of finding what they needed. Mal knew better; it was plenty dangerous alright, maybe even more than they thought, but 68 had exactly what they needed.

Night had already fallen when they landed outside of the only town on the planet. Mal pulled his scarf up until it covered the lower part of his face; the wind was bitter with the oncoming winter and it cut through clothes so easily he had to wonder if he could be any colder if he were naked. Jayne's low grumbling was an oddly reassuring sound at his shoulder; Zoe's silent competence an expected comfort at his side. It was a shame really that it weren't a fight Mal was so wary of.

The blast of heat as he opened the bar door almost made up for the way the talking suddenly stopped and every eye turned to the newcomers. With all the assurance of an outlaw Mal ignored the stares and stepped up to the bar, "Three of the house brews."

The heavy-set man behind the bar shrugged and served up three mugs of slightly cloudy liquid; Mal's proffered credits disappearing like magic. Mal turned back to scan the room as he took a sip of the surprisingly good beer. It was an odd mix of faces that turned to his; grizzled ranchers, youngsters who moved with too much surety to be as drunk as they seemed, and he'd foot Inara's next tailor's bill if that wasn't a companion in the far corner.

"He's not here."

Mal started, "Woh de ma! Where'd you come from girl?"

River tilted her head before stepping right up to him, peering up into his face. Mal shifted uncomfortably; one day they'd have to have a little talk about the privacy of a man's head. Then she was gone, pirouetting away, long hair flying, drawing the eyes of the rest of the room as she danced to silent tunes.

"Y' lookin' for someone particular then stranger?"

Mal turned back at the rough voice, conscious of the weighing look in the barkeep's eyes. He offered his best smile, "Name's Mal Reynolds; I got business with the old man."

The sound of at least a dozen pairs of ears tuning into the exchange was distinctive, but Mal didn't let it show. The barkeep regarded him skeptically, "Business? Seems to me anyone with legit'mate business with the old man wouldn't need to be askin' no barkeep."

Mal opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted. "He's scared. He doesn't trust the colt's memory, it's all tangled up like spiderwebs."

The barman looked at River, "She right in the head?"

Mal shrugged, he'd pondered that himself often enough, "River don't like conventional conversation much."

The barkeep's eyes narrowed, "Well we got some conventions here you all'd do well to watch. No-one got business with the old man less'n he says so."

Mal tried his best smile, "I'm thinking he'll make an exception for the likes of us."

There was a shift in the crowd that Mal gave his best impression of not noticing; it was the subtle shifting of positions that freed guns from holsters and knives from sheaths. Next to him Zoe tensed, her own posture shifting to accommodate the new atmosphere in the bar.

"I'm thinkin' you might be an exception too," the barkeep allowed with a smile before the craggy face hardened. "I reckon 'less you want to be made an exception of then you oughta take your 'business' elsewhere."

"Captain?" Zoe's voice was low, but filled with tension.

"Alright, we'll be goin' for now," Mal shrugged before letting a hard gaze sweep the room. "But we ain't leavin' till our business is done, you be sure to pass that on." He didn't allow the barman time to reply, but turned and left, gathering Zoe, Jane and River in his wake.

They were aware as they walked back to the ship that a handful from the bar had followed, but they stuck to the shadows and Mal hadn't brought them all here to pick a fight. In the pool of light from the ramp Mal turned to River, "Shouldn't you be with your brother?"

For a moment River's face crumpled into true upset, but then it evened out and she was staring off into some distance only she could see. "Simon doesn't want company yet."

Mal shrugged, he could understand that, boy had been sick as a dog since they entered orbit.

Jayne stepped up to go around them, "Don't know why we don't just go; he's sick, ain't like it's gonna kill him. Pissing off the high mucky-muck round here ain't worth it, Mal, he's bad news."

Mal sighed and rolled his eyes; Jane was worse than an old woman sometimes, but like an old woman he seemed to know every fireside story told and out on the edges of the 'verse more than a few of those were true. "I said we got business Jayne, we ain't leavin' till it's done."

He was glad Zoe knew him well enough to recognise that tone of voice meant it wasn't open to negotiation, whatever her thoughts she kept her mouth shut as she stepped past him. Mal looked up to see Kaylee coming down the step to greet them, the hope in her expression fading at their obvious empty-handedness. Zoe spared him from having to disappoint his mechanic, "We'll try again tomorrow. The Captain will find something, you know how stubborn and irritating he can be."

"Hey!" Mal objected and Zoe looked at him, "I prefer tenacious."

"That too," she smirked and sauntered off to find her husband.

Mal sighed and watched Kaylee head back to her engine room; she'd taken it hard, which he guessed was to be expected, she'd been counting on this last hope. Mal turned to close the ramp and saw River watching him, that wise look in her young eyes. Contrary to all expectation she actually seemed the least upset by the turn of events, but then a man never could tell with her.

"What if he's forgotten the colt?" her voice was soft and sorrowful. Mal felt an uneasy twinge at her words, but it was much easier to put it down to her psychic tricks again than the fact she'd voiced his own fears in her sing-song way.

He made his voice firm, "Then I'll remind him."

River tilted her head to look at him and her voice slid into a passable imitation of a voice he hadn’t heard since he left Shadow, "Some things are best forgotten, Mal.”

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly the prologue to another story if I ever get around to writing it.


End file.
